


My Light

by PastelPrincess96



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode: s07e07, F/M, Fluff, Reunions, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPrincess96/pseuds/PastelPrincess96
Summary: Jon Snow is reunited with a lost love from his past





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea I've had swimming around my head recently, that takes place during the Dragon Pit scene in the final episode of Series 7. I might add to it, but I might not. Either way, I hope you enjoy x

Jon could not believe he was once again stood in front of Cersei Lannister. Still flanked by her brother Jaime, and her face still holding a knowing smirk, like all those years ago in Winterfell. Of course, they were both different now. They had both lost so many people close to them, they had both survived terrible ordeals, coming out the other side stronger, harder. But, they were still two sides of very different coins. Her hair was much shorter now, making her face look even sharper, but still not taking away from her captivating beauty. Jon had heard stories about how she had lost her hair, about her fall from grace, causing an almost spike of empathy to strike within him. Then he remembered everything she had done, everything Sansa had told him about, which probably was not even the worst of it, and his empathy faded to nothingness once again. 

After they had explained why they were here, informing everyone present that the Walkers were on their way for them all, Jon sat back in his assigned seat. Waiting for The Hound to come back, a tense silence took over the Dragon Pit, no one daring enough to utter a word before whoever they deemed to be queen. 

“I suppose, whilst we wait, I should offer up the gift I had prepared for you,” Cersei was the one to break the silence. Everyone turned to look at her, as she stared straight ahead. Jon could not help but notice the sharp look Jaime Lannister was sending his sister, a look of warning, but also of desperation. 

“A gift for us?” Daenerys asked, making everyone’s head now bounce to her. Jon felt like he was watching the start of a duel; knowing words would cut deeper than swords between the two queens. 

“Well, it’s more for the Bastard of the North, and those closest to him. I doubt you will care all that much,” Cersei spoke to Daenerys, but her eyes were pinned on Jon, keeping him in his place. Even now, that word still got the better of him, still cut him deeper than any other name he had been called. He refused to let that show though, Cersei would only use that to her advantage someday. 

Jon had no answer for the Lannister, making her jaw visibly clench, unsure what on earth a gift to him could be. Jon watched as Cersei nodded to one of the knights behind him. He heard whoever it was scuttle off, but he must not have gone far, as his footsteps and armour was quickly heard clanking back into The Pit. Jon could hear that whatever he had brought back with him had to be chained up, with the distinct sound of chains bashing against each other echoing throughout The Pit. 

Refusing to turn around, Jon tried to guess what was being brought to him by the reactions on the faces opposite him. What he saw put him on edge. Everyone across from him visibly tensed at what they saw. He watched as Daenerys clasped her hands tighter together, and as Missandei softly gasped at what was being brought forward. What worried Jon most of all, was watching as Tyrion’s eyes widened in recognisable horror. Whatever, or whoever, it was, was a gift for Jon, but was clearly known by many others present. If Tyrion also recognised the person, it meant one of two things; the person had either come from The Wall, or they had they had been in Winterfell many moons ago, when the Lannister’s had first visited. Worry and fear churned in Jon’s stomach as he prayed it was not the latter option. 

Soon enough, the guard was walking onto the platform they were all situated on. He was gently tugging on chains that held the wrists of a hidden person. From their long hair, Jon assumed it be a woman, and from the deep auburn colour, Jon felt the fear in stomach churn until it was almost clawing up his throat. He began praying to the old Gods and the new, and to the seven, and to anyone who would listen, that when the woman’s hair was pulled back, it would not reveal a face he used to know so well. 

The guard stopped a few feet from Jon, but turned to face Cersei, along with the woman in chains. In the stationary position, Jon was able to study her more. With her head lowered, using her hair as a mask, he had no way of knowing what her face looked like. The hair stopped around the torso area, where Jon could almost see the faint sign of curves, adding to the assumption about the person’s gender. However, much of the woman’s body was hidden by what looked to be a sack, making it hard for any body shape to be seen clearly. Looking lower, Jon glanced at the woman’s legs, they looked to be extremely pale, but with the amount of dirt caked on to both them, and her feet, it was hard to know when the dirt ended and her skin began. 

Jon felt sick. Concentrating on the woman in front of him, he missed Cersei nod at the guard once again, causing him to turn and face Jon this time, bringing the woman around with him. With a front on view, Jon could see as the woman gripped the chains bound to her wrist, in what appeared to be an act of anger, but have also easily been a way to conceal her shaking her hands. As that was what Jon was doing, clenching his hands hard enough into fists, that he could feel crescent moons beginning to mark his skin, but it was the only way he knew how to disguise his visible nerves. 

“Look up,” Jon heard Cersei command, her voice leaving no room for argument. 

The woman easily complied. Her head rose, and the curtains of hair disguising her face fell back. Jon caught the first glimpse of her face, and felt the tilt of his world shift. It was not possible that she was in front of him now. The stories he had heard about her made it near impossible for her to be alive now. But here she was. And here he was. 

Jon swiftly stood from his chair, with as much grace as he could muster, but he felt himself stubble forward in his eagerness to get to her. He stood in front of her, barely an inch between them, when he reached his hand forward. At first, he dared not touch her, afraid that once he did he would it had all been an illusion and she would sink to dust in front of him. But the longer he looked in her eyes, the more he could not stop himself refraining from feeling her flesh and bone beneath the palm of his hand. 

Once his hand grazed her cheek, they both breathed a sigh of relief, pleased in the knowledge that what was happening was real. This was not a dream. The pressure of Jon’s hand on her cheek amplified, until he thought their skin had moulded into one. He saw the distinct sign of tears rise in her eyes, his own following suit soon enough. 

“Jon,” she breathed out his name in a sigh of disbelief. As she spoke, a tear fell from her lashes, which Jon easily wiped away. The gentle caress of his thumb, made her eyes fall shut, as she took a stuttering breath in. 

“I cannot believe it’s you,” she spoke again, her voice sounding stronger this time. Jon could not believe it either.

With his hand still attached to her cheek, Jon guided her head forward. He leant them forwards until their foreheads pressed against each other, until their breaths became mixed and all the air they were breathing was their own. 

“It’s me,” Jon spoke softly, holding her eyes in a stare that made sure she would not look away, “it’s me, I’m here. We’re here. I have you.”

The couple stayed locked together for several moments. The onlookers forced to take in the reunion scene displayed in front of them. Most watched in disbelief, having also heard the stories Jon had, and believing the woman in front of them to be long. Yet here she was. What she must have been through to survive could not fathomed, but nearly all of them were desperate to hear how she got here, how she had become entrapped in Cersei Lannister’s claws once again. 

However, the man she was leaning against was unconcerned with stories of how she got here, the point being, she was here at all. He had been convinced she was long gone from him, but here she was, living and breathing, and as beautiful to him as she had ever been. One point he would also wanted information on however, was how she had become chained to Lannister’s, literally, as well as symbolically, if her following Cersei’s orders was anything to go by. More importantly, he needed to know how easily he could break the chains off her. Now he had seen her again, touched her again, he would allow no one else to do the same. He would break the chains off with his bare hands if he had to. 

Before Jon could utter a word, someone else spoke for him, “why is she in chains?” he heard the distinct voice of Ser Davos ask. 

“I had to make sure she wouldn’t escape before we had chance to gift her to you,” Cersei’s cold voice replied. 

Jon did not allow anyone else to speak for him this time. He turned to look at Cersei head on, but did not let go of the woman he was desperately holding onto. “She’s not going to escape now, so if you could unlock her wrists,” Jon spoke sternly, making it clear he did not want to be messed with. He would take them all on if he had to, even the beast behind Cersei.

He watched Cersei’s jaw clench as she thought over what to do, clearly not wanting to lose whatever leverage she thought she had by keeping her locked in chains. She could obviously not detect the anger radiating from Jon, and what he would do to make sure the chains were released imminently. However, before Cersei could make a decision, her brother spoke for her.

“Guard,” Jaime said, with a nod of his head. Immediately, the guard who had brought her forward, dropped the excess chain, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a key, which quickly fit into the chain’s locks and released the wrists they had been holding in place. Cersei turned to her brother with evident fire in her eyes, but Jon did not care. He had what he wanted now.

With her wrists released, the woman in front of Jon wrung her arms around his shoulders as far as they would go, and brought him further into her body. Jon easily reciprocated the gesture, tightly wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her into him. Now, there was not an inch between them. There was just enough room for them breath comfortably, but that left no room for anything else. Even light could barely break through them.

“Jon,” he heard cried more fervently into his ear. Now that she was freed, she had no cause to hold back her emotions any longer. Jon was here, holding onto her with all his might, she had no fears anymore. Even if she died tomorrow, at least she got to see him, hold him, one more time. 

“I’m here, my light, I’m here,” Jon whispered soothingly. Yes, he was here, and she was here. They were together again, at last. Jon finally had his light back, and he was not letting go of it any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been so long she had seen Jon, Marya did not know how to start talking to him. She did not know how to say how grateful she was that he had turned up; unsure what would have happened to her if she were kept with the Lannister’s any longer. She had no idea how to ask how he had ended up in the company he had, or why he was no longer at the wall; she supposed she had missed a lot during her time in solitude. But really, she had no way to put into words the horrors she had been through, the horrors that had led her back to King’s Landing, the horrors that made sure she no longer got a full night’s rest. 

Her horrors. There were too many to remember now. Too many to articulate into words. Too many altogether. 

Marya wanted desperately to ask Jon about Sansa and Arya, the last Starks she had seen alive, so long ago. She had tried her best to protect them. And when they had been separated, she had tried so hard to keep track of them. 

Arya had been hard to hear word of, but she knew some of what had happened to her. She knew she had managed to get free of the city, along with a group travelling north, to the wall. She knew Arya had gotten lost somewhere along the way, after the travellers had run into Tywin Lannister on their journey. But that was the last piece of information she had been told regarding Arya. No one, not even her most-trusted spies, heard anything after that. Marya had prayed night and day it was not the last thing she ever heard regarding Arya Stark. She prayed she would hear of her whereabouts again someday. That she would hear her name in the present tense again, someday. She hoped that day was today. 

Sansa had been easier to keep track of, for a time. Her lasting presence in King’s Landing had made it simpler for her actions to be kept track of, and gossiped about among the places Marya had been travelling. Even after she escaped King’s Landing, the people she trusted remained vigilant in their observation of Sansa, always trying their hardest to get the information to Marya when they could. It was only when Marya herself disappeared that she stopped receiving word of Sansa, of anyone. She only had herself to blame for that. 

The things she had been through, the events she had witnessed, had sent Marya wandering off the beaten track. Wandering into the wilderness. It was the only place she could go to be truly alone, to truly escape. She needed that, she needed it to process everything that had happened to her in such a short space of time. She needed it to process the last event she had witnessed, or she would have gone truly mad. She had felt close enough to that anyway. She had no idea where she had wandered to. She had just walked and walked for miles, and kept on walking whenever she stopped. It was what had caused her to cross paths with the Lannister’s again. It was what had led to her to where she was now. 

She was currently sat in the back cabin of a ship she had been placed on. She was not sure where it was going, or what it was carrying, but Jon had boarded with her, which was enough to soothe her worries for now. 

-

Jon held his head in his hands. Too much had happened today for him to think about anything clearly. Whilst many critical events had taken place today, the only one his mind could focus on was the reason behind why there was a woman currently sat in the back cabin of the ship he was on. A woman he thought he lost so long ago. 

After he had been reunited with Marya, Jon had struggled to hold a coherent thought. His mind had been centring on why, and how. _How, how, how?_ How was she here, now? How had she found herself in the care of the Lannister’s, locked in their chains? How had she survived all this time? How did she look just as Jon remembered? Perhaps a little more withered, a little more weighed down by the world; but she was still just as beautiful as the day Jon had left her behind in Winterfell. 

He had managed to get through showing Cersei what they had captured North of the Wall; even with his straying over to where Mayra had stood, whenever they could. He had somehow gotten through the discussion afterwards, trying not to obviously stare at Mayra, keeping his eyes solemnly fixed on one spot in front of him. He had been able to string together some words for the conversations he had with those he came with afterwards, making sure Mayra remained where he could see her, if he were to look. He had then somehow managed to direct them both onto the ship he had arrived on, not bothering to see who had followed them on. He had taken Mayra to the cabin at the back of the ship, being the biggest, it offered the most comfort. He had sat with her for a while, unsure how to how start a conversation with her; until the silence became too stifling for him to handle. Feeling ashamed, he had walked out of the room, able to at least mumble where he was going to her, in case she were to need him for anything. 

Jon had found solace in one of the other rooms aboard the ship. Not knowing, not caring, where everyone else was, he had taken one look inside the empty room and chose to make a room for himself inside of it. The room had been designed to hold counsel meetings for whoever owned it, with a round table in the middle and chairs filling every other available space. Jon had used one to sit and think. He had tried to remember what had happened in the day, wondering; what exact words had been spoken? What exact deal they had agreed upon? What were they planning to do now in the war against The Others? 

But he could not remember any of what had happened. All he could remember was when he laid eyes on Marya for the first time in years. The look on her face. The small changes in her appearance. The chains around her wrists. 

Jon allowed his thoughts to be overtaken by Marya now, not bothering to pretend anymore. His mind refused to focus on anything else. Why should he let it? He could not get the picture of her hands in chains out of his head. How had she landed there? How had she gone from the Stark girls’ unsuspecting handmaid, to a woman in chains, in only a number of years. Although, he had gone through many trials and tribulations himself, as he knew the rest of his family had at this point, but it had never crossed his mind that Marya had as well. The idea of her being in any type of trouble never crossed his mind when he thought of her though. He only liked to think of her as he left her, guarded, and safe, and pure against the horrors of the world. Maybe it had been too naïve of him, to think of her like that; but he could not think of her any other way. It would have been too painful for him to think of her like that. Just as painful as it was for him now, to think of her like that. 

“Lord Snow?” a voice called into the room, starting Jon from his thoughts. He looked up to see Ser Davos stood at the entrance to the room. He had not even heard the door open. 

“Ser Davos,” Jon said, feigning politeness. He just wanted to be left alone for a little bit longer, but he knew if it was Davos coming to see him, he must have something of importance to say. 

However, silence took over the room once again, as Davos stood uncomfortably on the threshold of the room. Not one to usually to struggle for words, Jon was instantly put on edge, scared of what Davos was struggling to put into words. He let the man flounder for a moment more, before deciding to try and urge him into speaking. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, Ser Davos, bu…” Jon could not finish his sentence before Davos interrupted him. Jon was shocked, the man was nothing if not polite, his prompting must have truly stirred Davos into finding his words. 

“It shocked me to see her as well. It had been so long, I thought she had left us,” Davos confessed to Jon, who openly gaped at him, further shocked by speech. 

“You knew her?” he shook his head, “you know her?”

“Aye, I do,” Davos nodded, “it was several moons ago now when we crossed paths. She washed up on the shores of Dragonstone one day, and somehow convinced Lord Stannis to take her in. She stayed with us for a while, she was never a bother anyone, always willing to help when called upon. She got on well with the little Princess,” a look of mirth crossed of Davos’ face at his own mention of Stannis’ daughter. “I believe she was happy during her time there, although she did appear troubled on more than one occasion. Sometimes a look passed across her face, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, much like the look that passes your face from time to time my lord.” 

Jon swallowed, not expecting their paths to have followed such a similar one, although at very different points in time, and for very different reasons. But still, it meant something to him.

“What happened?” Jon barely heard the question come out of his own mouth, he had to clear his throat before questioning again. “What happened? You said you hadn’t seen her for a while, and she was certainly not with you when you came to The Wall. So, what happened to her?”

“The Red Priestess happened.”

“Melisandre?”

“Aye, that witch,” the venom could be heard clearly in Ser Davos’ voice. “She claimed to have read something in the flames. I was never told what it was, but it was something believable enough for Stannis to send Marya away. He told the Princess he had sent her on a quest, had sent her to retrieve something for him. But, when she never returned, I knew that wasn’t true. And when we never heard about her again, I thought she perished. Lost at sea, or worse…” 

Davos took a deep breath before he said his next words, not sure how the young Lord in front of him would take them “…seeing her earlier, I almost wish that had been the case. I imagine it would have been sweeter than whatever she went through to end up in Lannister chains.”

It hurt Jon to hear those words, but he could not disagree with them. Whatever had happened to Marya between leaving Dragonstone, and coming across the Lannister’s again, could not have been pleasant. Based on the glazed look that had taken over her eyes when he had left her cabin, he imagined it was even worse than he was allowing himself to believe. But, who knew what happened during her imprisonment with the Lannister’s? Who knew what happened to get her to leave Dragonstone? Who knew how she ended up on Dragonstone in the first place? Who knew what had happened to her from the time he left Winterfell to now? Jon certainly did not. He was not sure he ever wanted to hear that story, but he knew he needed to. And he knew he had to hear it from Marya herself. That would be the only true version of the story. That would be the only version that mattered to him.


End file.
